


Scars

by LysanderandHermia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jim is changeable and by that default reason he's allowed to have friends shh, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LysanderandHermia/pseuds/LysanderandHermia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Initially, Jim didn't notice. Dmitri kept his head angled once he'd arrived, made sure that his mild cover via hair would remain in place, smiled and talked as he usually did. And after a while he relaxed, just a bit. Jim wouldn't notice, and it would be fine, and in the meantime, he could think of an actual excuse for having it, and figure out a way to hide it better.</p>
<p>Jim knew though. Not about the scar, but he'd known the doctor since Uni, and he knew all the man's tells, knew that he was upset about <i>something</i>. Finally, Jim had had enough, and sat back in his chair, sizing Dmitri up. "What happened?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

He'd avoided Jim for as long as he could, making excuses and making sure he always had an 'I'm so sorry I'm busy today, Jim, otherwise you know I'd love nothing more than to come over.'  
  
Dmitri didn't want to see the look of disappointment on Jim's face, didn't want to see his confused expression when he tried to figure out why his doctor had had to sew up his own cheek with seven stitches.  
  
The stitches were gone now, but as Dmitri examined his face in the mirror, there was still a long scar running just under his cheekbone, ugly and repulsive. He hated it. He hated that it was keeping him from seeing Jim, too, but how could he face that accusation?  
  
Jim would accuse him, too. Would berate him once again for staying with someone that clearly didn't love him, who _hurt_ him like that. Dmitri stared at himself in the mirror, hastily scrubbing at an eye. He'd be disappointed that Dmitri had let himself fall for it all again, that he'd chosen wrong again. Wrong wrong wrong.  
  
And so Dmitri avoided Jim, stayed at home, saw Rob less and less until finally, the man called him and told him to fuck off, told him that he hoped his mark would last on his face for years, that he was fucking _stupid_ to simply give up on him. In Rob's eyes, he had done no wrong, he'd given Dmitri exactly what he needed and deserved. Which was nothing apparently. And nothing was what Dmitri had done, for most of the past month, afraid to go out, ashamed to venture out for more than a jug of milk.  
  
But now he'd have to go see him; there was no other way around it. It was Jim's birthday. How could he _not_ go and see his best friend, the man that he'd somehow managed to get to like him, the man that took care of him when he took care of no one else. It made Dmitri feel special. It made him feel better. Jim made him feel better.  
  
He couldn't go out like this, though. He'd ruin the whole evening if Jim got fixated on his face. Makeup didn't work, and when styling his hair differently only half hid the scar, Dmitri had to give up, and head over regardless, gift stashed under one arm as he walked.  
  
Initially, Jim didn't notice. Dmitri kept his head angled once he'd arrived, made sure that his mild cover via hair would remain in place, smiled and talked as he usually did. And after a while he relaxed, just a bit. Jim wouldn't notice, and it would be fine, and in the meantime, he could think of an actual excuse for having it, and figure out a way to hide it better.  
  
Jim knew though. Not about the scar, but he'd known the doctor since Uni, and he knew all the man's tells, knew that he was upset about _something_. Finally, Jim had had enough, and sat back in his chair, sizing Dmitri up. "What happened?"  
  
Dmitri's smile froze on his face, and he shifted in his chair, embarrassed. "Come on, Jim, don't be like that. Nothing's happened. Open your gift, hm?"  
  
Eyes glinting, Jim stood and swapped his armchair for sitting on the couch next to Dmitri, eyes never leaving the man's face. "The gift can wait," he said shortly. "Tell me."  
  
He shifted away again, shaking his head, unconsciously reaching up to re-flatten his hair over the scar. Jim caught the movement, and snatched Dmitri's hand away, pushing back his hair. He got in one brief look at a four inch long knife wound that had scarred over on Dmitri's cheek, before the man had smacked him, getting up and retreating over to the fire, huddling on himself.  
  
" _Stop it_ , Jim. It's none of your business!" Dmitri demanded, nervous and upset and… and he had an ugly _scar_ on his face. No one wanted to see that. "Just leave it. It doesn't matter. It's going to ruin your birthday. It's your day, not mine."  
  
"Load of bollocks, Dem. Obviously it does matter, if you're hiding it from me and acting like this," Jim said after a long moment, feeling gently at his reddened cheek where Dmitri had slapped him, hard. "Demmi, come on, let me see, please," he pleaded, using the man's nickname.  
  
Dmitri didn't back down, covering his cheek with his hand and shaking his head. "No. You can't. It's disgusting and ugly, and you can't."  
  
Raising his hands, trying to calm the now obviously upset doctor, Jim sighed, and sat back. "At least tell me what happened."  
  
Hesitant, and not really willing to divulge that Rob had been abusive, just like all of the rest had been, Dmitri huffed a breath, staring at the ground, still facing away from Jim so the man couldn't see his face and, more importantly, that he couldn't see Jim's face. "I… he was everything you predicted," he finally snapped, his frustration at himself lacing the words and turning them bitter. "I smiled too long at someone. Laughed it off later. We were cooking." He rubbed his arm, trying to convince himself that it hadn't meant anything. "He'd said he was sorry, Jim," he told the man, turning slightly to glance at Jim.  
  
Jim didn't seem surprised by the information - of course he wasn't - but Dmitri took comfort in the fact that he didn't see disappointment there. He was sure Jim was; the man had told him enough times not to keep bringing home such Neanderthals, but the man kept it off his face, and for that, Dmitri was grateful.  
  
In fact, all that was registering on Jim's face was sadness. He stared at his friend, took in his twitchy posture, the way he still refused to let Jim see this scar that was so disgusting and ugly. A small, very small smile jumped to his lips then, and Jim held out a hand for Dmitri. "Come here, Demmi." At the man's nearly instant resistance - he could see the defiance rising in the man's eyes - he continued quickly. "You said it's disgusting and ugly. Let me decide that for myself, hm?"  
  
He was hesitant, but slowly Dmitri moved over to Jim, until he sat down in the man's lap, leggier than the Irishman, but weighing less all around. He hid his face against Jim's collar, shaking his head. "I don't want you to see it."  
  
Sighing, Jim smoothed his fingers through the brunette's hair, wrapping his arm around him instead, and tried to think of something to make Dmitri feel better. Delving down, he pulled out his mental notes of 'How to Make Dem Feel Better' and sifted through, humming gently as he did, before shifting his free arm that wasn't in the man's hair to lace their fingers together comfortingly, stroking over the man's palm with his thumb. "Listen, Demmi. You're a good person, aren't you? Yes. You're an amazing person. It's fact, sweetheart. Everyone says. And these guys, they're… they're not good. How could a good person do something like hurt you? How could anyone hurt you, when you didn't want to be hurt?"  
  
Dmitri was silent, but Jim could feel tears seeping through his shirt, onto his skin. He rubbed the man's back, sliding his hand up to press gently over Dmitri's chest. "I know you think they love you, dearest, but they don't. You know that, don't you? If they loved you, they'd never hurt you like this. They'd be like me. They'd love you always and care for you."  
  
Slowly, Dmitri pulled his head away, sitting up a bit, sniffing and wiping at his eyes, still hiding his face. But slowly, he nodded, a small hiccup escaping him. Jim smiled gently at him, voice mimicking the doctor's soft sound. "I love you, Demmi, you're the only person I love, and that means I get to give it all over to you, mm? You're the best friend I could ever have stumbled upon, and you've stuck around. You're better than those other men. You're beautiful no matter what's happened to you on the outside, understand?"  
  
It was a long minute of waiting, but when Dmitri finally glanced up, he sniffed and nodded - Jim knew the man didn't quite believe him, but that was alright, he'd convince him someday - and Jim gently smoothed his hair back from his face, carefully tilted the man's chin so that he could examine the long scar, tracing his fingers across the other side of Dmitri's face to soothe him.  
  
"Yes," he said, after a long moment, thumb smoothing over one of Dmitri's laugh lines, "I told you so." He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Dmitri's scar, moving all the way down it, and then back up, before quickly licking up its length and jerking his head back and out of the way as Dmitri yelped and squirmed in his lap, an unintentional giggle leaving him.  
  
Jim grinned at the man, hugging him close again. "Beautiful. It'll be okay, Demmi-bear." And Dmitri only smiled and firmly tucked his hair behind his ear.


End file.
